Always
by Dulcineah
Summary: Rentfic. How did Mark and Mimi meet? Author's Notes
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: 

My second Rentfic. A Mark/Mimi one this time, and mostly pre-Rent, although it goes into AU near the end of the story. It's sort of hard to explain, and it's best experienced if you just read to get the sense of what it's about. I'm far from arrogant when it comes to my writing, and I hate a good ninety percent of what I put out, but this story I'm actually proud of. So please, give it a try, and if you do read, then please review, whether you love it or hate it or have no opinion on it whatsoever. 

Special thanks to Lola, Becca, and Elyse for their valuable comments and pestering me to keep up with this. I love you guys. 

**Always**

By Dulcey 

_I'm up here on my own again, I'm always on my own  
They don't know anything at all, they see just what they want  
Can't they see I'm not really here? I'm back there with you  
  
Flying away, wish I could say you would be there tomorrow and always  
Just have to go, wish I could know you would always remember me now and always  
  
Turning my face away again, I'm always turned away  
Wanting someone to talk it out, without you always  
  
Flying away, wish I could say you would be there tomorrow and always  
Just have to go, wish I could know you would always remember me now and always_

-Anthony Rapp 

I knew it was her even before Roger pointed her out in the crowd. I'd suspected ever since he caught up with me in the park. That in itself was surprising--Roger hadn't set foot outside the apartment for over seven months, ever since we found April lying in a pool of blood with a razor still clutched in her hand, and a hastily scrawled suicide note taped to the bathroom door. But now here he was, with a story about a young girl who'd knocked on the door after I'd left, and asked him to light her candle. 

And now here she was, in front of my eyes, as though she'd merely stepped out of the dreams that had haunted me for years. She was alive, which was an immense relief. But she wasn't okay. Maybe I could only see this because I'd loved her, but she looked too thin. Her eyes, which I remembered as being beautiful and sparkling and full of life, were dull and listless. Worst of all, she was following the dealer around with the other junkies. She was wearing a long sleeved coat, but I could imagine the ugly red tracks that must cover her arms, just like the ones Roger had for years. 

Roger's eyes met mine, and we shared a worried glance. "I'll go talk to her," he told me. "Do you think she'd come to dinner with us if I apologized?" 

It was hard to say. Mimi could be fiercely proud, and while I'd only loved her more for it, I couldn't exactly tell Roger this. 

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's worth a try. Go for it." 

Roger gripped my shoulder tightly, then ran off toward the crowd of junkies. My scarf had come loose, and I busied myself with retying it, trying to push back the memories that were threatening to overwhelm me. I could hear her beautiful, musical laugh as though it were yesterday. When I closed my eyes, I could feel her head resting against my shoulder. I couldn't begin to count the number of times she'd fallen asleep like that, halfway through the movie we'd rented. She asked me once if I was offended that she could never stay awake through a film. I'd laughed and said I didn't mind at all, as long as it wasn't my film she was sleeping through. 

She was here, in St. Mark's square, a mere twenty yards from where I now stood. Had it really been two and a half years since I'd seen her? Thirty months from when she and Benny broke up, and she cried on my shoulder, and we kissed, and finished the night in my bed? A mere two and a half years, and yet it felt like several lifetimes. 

We hadn't met under the best of circumstances, Mimi and I. I'd been visiting a friend uptown, and hadn't made it back until late at night. I saw her on my walk from the subway stop to the apartment Benny and I shared, and at first, she just looked like another one of those prostitutes who waited around 10th Street after the sun went down. I wouldn't have given her a second glance, except for one thing: she was crying. 

If I want to be honest here, part of me wanted to keep on walking. It was late, and I had an appointment early the next morning. Besides, what business of this was mine? Who said I could do anything for this girl? 

Our eyes met, and the fear and pain and humiliation I read in them made me stop in my tracks. "Hey," I called softly to her. "Are you okay?" 

She shook her head and turned away, burying her face in her hands. "Go away," she sobbed. "Please, leave me alone." 

She didn't sound like she meant it, though, and I took another cautious step in her direction. "Are you sure?" I pressed. "Do you want me to call someone for you?" 

The girl shook her head again. "My family's disowned me, and my friends are a bunch of losers. They can't help me." 

"Is there anything I can do?" I continued. "Are you hungry? I know a place that serves great creamed carrots." 

A hint of a smile flickered across her face. "Creamed carrots? Who eats that stuff?" 

"Or anything else you want," I hastened to add. "My treat." 

The girl looked doubtful. "I don't know. I don't think this is such a good idea." 

She sounded semi-sure of herself at that point, and the last thing I wanted to do was pressure her. She has enough problems of her own without a complete stranger pestering her, I told myself. But how could I leave her there? Now that I'd seen the pain and misery written on her face, was I hard hearted enough to simply walk away? 

I decided on a compromise. "Here," I offered, reaching into my wallet and handing her a twenty. It was all the money I had, but she needed it more than I did. "Get yourself something to eat, and a place to stay for the night, if you need one." 

"Oh, no," she protested, pushing the money back into my hand and folding my fingers around it. "I couldn't take your money." 

"Please," I insisted, tucking the money into her hand for the second time. "Let me do this for you." 

She continued to look doubtful. "You'd have to let me pay you back." 

I opened my wallet again, and handed her one of my business cards. I hadn't used them much since Benny gave them to me months ago, but this seemed as good an opportunity as any. "You can find me at that address," I told her. "Or leave a message with my roommate." 

"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know why you're doing this, but thanks." 

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Was there any appropriate response? "Take care of yourself, okay?" 

"I'll try." She gave me a small smile. "You're very sweet--" she glanced at the card, "--Mark." 

I watched as she walked away. To my disappointment, she didn't look back once. 

When I got home, I staggered over to the couch and collapsed onto it, falling asleep almost immediately. It might have been hours, or merely minutes later when I was roused from my slumber by a pounding on the door. 

"Shit," I mumbled, slowly rousing myself from the couch. As I stumbled across the living room in the darkness, I stubbed my toe on a chair leg and let another obscenity fly. The knocking resumed. "I'm coming, I'm coming," I called impatiently. 

Finally I made it to the door. After what felt like an eternity fiddling with the locks, I managed to swing it open. It took a moment for my brain to recognize the small figure standing before me. 

It was her. 

Larry's Diner wasn't exactly known for fine cuisine, but it was cheap and it was open 24 hours. "And their creamed carrots really are good," I told the girl as we slid into a booth. "Although I'd stay away from the meat loaf. You don't want to know what Larry puts in there." 

"Why are you doing this?" she asked for the third time since we'd left my apartment. "Why are you being so nice to me?" 

It was the same question I asked myself, but this time, I needed an explanation. A good one, even. "I'm a nice guy," I shrugged. "And really, it's no big deal." 

Her hand crept nervously across the table until it was almost touching mine. Our eyes met, and she quickly yanked it back. 

"I suppose you'll want to know what I was doing out there," she mumbled, dropping her head and appearing to become engrossed in a coffee stain on the table. 

"That would help, yes." I saw her shoulders tense up, and hastened to add "But why don't we wait until after we've gotten some food into you?" 

She still wouldn't look up. "Is there anything else you want me to do?" 

"There is one thing," I began. 

The girl nodded her head in resignation. "All right." That terrified look was back in her eyes. 

"No, no," I hastened to assure her. "I just wanted to know what your name was." 

"Oh." She gave me a small smile, and I felt a cloud of butterflies materialize in my stomach. "It's Amelia. But my family always called me Mimi." 

"Mimi," I repeated, relishing the sound of it. "It fits you." 

"My papa always said that Amelia was too big a name for such a little girl." Her smile faded, and was replaced by the now-familiar forlorn expression. 

The waiter appeared, and set our food before us. We busied ourselves with eating, although I stole glances at Mimi every now and then. She was scarfing down her food like there was no tomorrow, and I wondered exactly when she'd had her last good meal. 

Over her protests, I asked the waiter to bring her another helping. She insisted that she was full, and couldn't eat another bite, then proceeded to wolf down the second plate almost as quickly as the first. 

I paid the bill, and Mimi and I left the diner. It was a clear June night, and even though it was approaching one in the morning, there were still a number of people out on the streets, anxious to hit the bars for one last shot before closing time. Mimi and I hiked three blocks over to the park, where we found a semi-isolated bench. 

I sat down and patted the place beside me. "Have a seat." 

Mimi slowly sank down onto the bench, hugging her knees to her chest. "Where do you want me to start?" 

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Wherever you're most comfortable." 

"Okay." She drew a deep breath. "Why is this so hard?" 

I took a risk and reached for her hand. To my relief, she didn't pull away. 

"I guess it started last year, when I was fifteen." Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it. "My brother's friends always came over to our house. It was no big deal, except one day they came when I was home alone, and" Even in the darkness, I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. 

"It's okay," I hurriedly assured her. "You don't have to talk about that part." 

"I found out I was pregnant two months later," she continued, her voice growing a little stronger. "I didn't know what I was going to do, then one of my girlfriends told me about a doctor in the city who fixed these things. I didn't have any money, so I stole all the cash my father kept in his drawer. I got rid of the baby, and never went back." 

I tightened my grip on her hand. "Don't you think they're worried about you?" 

She shook her head. "I come from a strict Catholic family. They would never forgive abortion." 

"But it wasn't your fault!" I exclaimed. 

"It doesn't matter." Her jaw was set, her eyes hard. "Not to my family." 

What was I supposed to say to this? What words could I possibly come up with to ease the unthinkable amount of suffering she'd been through at such a young age? 

"I lived with a girlfriend here in the East Village after that," Mimi continued. "But she moved out last week. I've been out on the streets since then. I've looked all over for a job, but no one would hire me because I'm only sixteen." She lowered her eyes. "I thought if I could sell myself, I could make enough money to live on and it wouldn't matter how young I was." 

"Oh, Mimi." I still had no idea what to say to her. "I'm so sorry" 

"Don't be," she insisted firmly. "Nothing will ever get better if anyone feels sorry for me." 

"Is there anything I can do?" 

She held up a hand. "You've done enough already. Don't feel obligated." 

"Mimi, I want to help." I couldn't tell whether she believed me or not. "Please. Do you need a place to stay?" 

She gave a short, bitter laugh that sounded much too old for someone as young as she was. "That's nice of you, Mark, but I don't think you know what you're getting into." 

"Look, why don't you stay at my place tonight? On the couch," I hastened to add, feeling her jerk her hand out of mine. "My roommate won't mind." 

"Thank you, but I'd better not." I marveled at her pride, even as I felt a slight twinge of disappointment. 

"All right," I gave in. "But I'll leave the door unlocked. If you change your mind, you know where to go." 

"I won't. But thank you." She kissed my cheek. 

It was a lonely walk home. When I got back, I took off my jacket and shoes before falling onto my bed. The next morning, when I woke up, I was convinced the whole thing was a dream. I'd overslept and missed my appointment, so I called, feigned sickness, and rescheduled for next week. I took a shower. I changed into clean clothes. And I went out into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. 

Halfway there, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks. A girl's jacket thrown across the arm of the sofa. Curly black hair. And Mimi, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. 


	2. 2

Benny wasn't too thrilled when he came into the kitchen and saw Mimi and me eating cereal at the table. He was polite to Mimi, but when she turned back around, he jerked his head toward his room with the clear message that I should follow him. I swallowed the last spoonful of my Frosted Flakes, made an excuse to Mimi, and followed him back. 

He closed the bedroom door behind him and lost little time getting to the point. "Mark, who's that girl?" 

I sighed. "Benny, I'm sorry I didn't run this by you first, but it was late, and you were asleep, and I didn't think you'd mind." 

"I suppose you're right," he agreed. "I don't blame you, really. She's a real looker. Where did you find her?" 

What?? He thought--what?? "Oh, Benny, it's not like that. Nothing happened with us." 

My roommate gave me an odd look. "It didn't? Then why's she here?" 

How was I supposed to explain this? I had a feeling that Mimi wouldn't want me to repeat what she'd told me last night. "She's in a lot of trouble, Benny," I tried to explain. "I told her she could stay here for awhile." 

"Oh, Mark." Benny shook his head. "You're such a sucker." 

"What do you mean?" I demanded, as indignantly as I could. 

"I mean you're always trying to save the world!" he exclaimed. "First it was a bird with a broken wing. Now it's a girl. Tomorrow, you'll have turned the entire apartment into a homeless shelter." 

"Benny, it's just for a little while," I tried to convince him. "I'll help her find a job, and somewhere to live. She just needs to get back on her feet." 

"All right," he gave in. "I'll give you kids a week." 

"Your generosity is astounding," I told him sarcastically, rolling my eyes. 

"I mean it, Mark." He grabbed his wallet off of the dresser and shoved it into his back pocket. "One week." 

I knew him better than that. Benny talked tough, but when you got down to it, the guy had a good heart. I'd have convinced him by the time the week was over. "All right," I agreed. "One week." 

I didn't tell Mimi about Benny's deadline. It would have upset her, and made her feel guilty, and what good would that have done? 

It was truly magical to see Mimi come out of her shell as the days went by. Once she became more at ease around me, and Benny too, to an extent, she changed dramatically from the shy, terrified girl I'd found on 10th street to an outgoing, outrageous, often flirtatious young woman with an incredible love of life. She laughed more. She began to tease me about the ever-present camera in my hand. She stole all my boxer shorts while I was in the shower, and draped them over the ceiling fan in the living room. 

As I suspected, by the end of the week, Mimi had charmed Benny into allowing her to stay as long as she wanted. She was still shyer around him, and didn't tease him as mercilessly as she did me. But Benny was only human, and he couldn't resist her smiles or the way she'd pout her lips and plead any more than I could. 

It was Benny who found Mimi a job, after weeks of searching. She and I hadn't been having much luck, since she was under eighteen and didn't have a social security card. Finally, after all the options had been exhausted, I asked Benny if his family couldn't help her out. He talked to his father, and the next day, Mimi was hired as a waitress at a trendy restaurant that the Coffins had recently acquired. 

"I don't know how I can thank you," she gushed when Benny told her the good news. "You guys have been nicer to me than anyone ever has, and I wish there was some way I could pay you back for this." 

"Ah, don't worry about it," Benny shrugged. "No biggie." 

"Maybe it's not for you, but it is for me," she insisted, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Benny." 

"And thank you, Mark," she continued, kissing me as well. "You're the sweetest guy I've ever met." 

I tried not to show how my heart was pounding, or how hard I was fighting back a goofy smile. It had been ages since a girl had paid that much attention to me, especially not one as beautiful and sweet as Mimi was. 

Bad idea, Mark, I lectured myself. Best not to go there in the first place. 

All right, yes, it had been a long time since I'd had a girlfriend. Since junior year in college, even. But Mimi wasn't like the girls I'd dated. For one, she was a lot younger. She wouldn't be seventeen until January, while I'd already turned twenty-two. Also, she had already been through so much in her life. She'd had some horrific experiences with men, and she was bound to be at least a little scared of them. 

And she trusted me. Since she'd moved in, Mimi and I had developed a warm, comfortable friendship. She teased me about how I ate broccoli, and watched movies with me with her head resting on my shoulder. Some nights, when Benny was out with a girl, she would mix drinks out of the alcohol and fruit juices we had on hand, and the two of us would sit up late in my room, talking about everything and nothing. It was obvious that she thought of me as a good friend, as a brother, even. 

The problem was, no one ever falls in love with their brother. 

So I tried to ignore how jittery my stomach became when she smiled at me, or how adorable and innocent she looked when I came out into the living room each morning to find her asleep on the couch. That was the one guilty pleasure I allowed myself: stealing opportunities to watch her sleep. She had a habit of kicking her blankets off in her sleep, and if it had been a particularly cold night, I would creep up next to her and replace the covers. 

It was just an act of brotherly concern, I told myself sternly. I couldn't have a guest catching cold, now, could I? 

Mimi usually worked nights, so she and I were home alone during the day while Benny went off to work. Some mornings I'd sneak into the kitchen while she was asleep and cook breakfast, enjoying how she'd stumble into the kitchen within fifteen minutes after I started frying the sausage, her hair rumpled from sleep, looking adorably small in the pajamas I'd lent her. I treasured these times when we were alone, how she would laugh at my jokes even when no one else would, and how she could talk me into doing anything, often things I would never do on my own. 

She convinced me to go roller skating with her one afternoon. I protested that I hadn't been since I was a kid, and didn't have the slightest idea how to even stand up on skates. My excuses lasted about five minutes before she wore me down with her pleading brown eyes and vows to love me forever if I went with her. The next thing I knew, we were at the roller rink, with Mimi spinning around in the center of the rink, while I hung on desperately to the ledge on the side, hoping I could make it through without falling down. 

"Mark, what are you doing?" she demanded, gliding up to me and making a perfect stop. "You won't have much fun that way." 

"I suck at this!" I whined, letting go for a brief moment. My skates began wobbling underneath me, and before I knew it, my feet had shot off in separate directions, and I was sitting flat on my butt before the entire rink. 

"Oh, Mark," she giggled. 

I tried to glare at her. "You wouldn't be laughing if it happened to you." 

"You're right," she agreed, making no attempt to suppress her laughter. "Let me help you up." 

She held out her hands to me and somehow managed to hoist me to my feet. How she did it, I had no idea, considering she couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds. "Come on, Mark, let's see how you skate." 

I took another tentative step. Miracle of all miracles, I stayed on my feet. Encouraged, I took another. And promptly fell down again. 

"You're not doing it right." She shook her head. "No wonder you keep falling." 

"And what is the right way to do it?" I demanded in mock indignation. "Care to demonstrate?" 

"Here." She grabbed my hands again and pulled me back up. "You have to concentrate. Why don't you start with your left foot?" 

I obediently slid my foot forward. I started to wobble, but Mimi's grip steadied me. "Good, now the right." I took another step. This time I didn't wobble at all. "Mark, that's great! You're doing it!" 

"Thanks to you," I insisted. "And I wouldn't call this a success quite yet." 

I did fall down several more times that afternoon. But by the time we left, I was able to confidently circle around the rink, hand in hand with Mimi, without touching the wall once. It was hard to tell whether Mimi or I was more proud of me. 

"You're amazing," I told her. "Absolutely astounding." 

She kissed me, quickly and lightly, but on the lips just the same. "It was nothing. You're just a good pupil." She smiled flirtatiously at me and dashed off, her eyes beckoning me to follow. 

Benny still wasn't home when we got back. Either he was working late again, or he was on a date. He usually did the cooking, so I called for a pizza while Mimi set out the plates and napkins, and selected a video out of our very limited library. She was waiting on the couch for me, and promptly assumed the now familiar position of resting her head in my lap. We spent the next hour and a half following the adventures (or misadventures) of Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan, pausing only when the pizza guy arrived. 

"So what do you think about that?" Mimi asked abruptly, her mouth still full of pizza. 

"Think about what?" I echoed. "And didn't your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" 

She stuck out her tongue at me. She looked like a naughty twelve year old when she did that, and I don't know why I found that so adorable. "Think about" she swallowed, "About the movie. Can men and women just be friends?" 

Oh, God, this was not a conversation I wanted to have right now. Not with Mimi sitting a few inches away from me, wearing an old shirt of Benny's over a tiny white tank top that left very little to the imagination. I took another hasty mouthful of pizza, hoping for some stupid reason that if she couldn't tell what I was saying, she wouldn't know what I was thinking. 

"Oh, I dunno," I mumbled. "Whad you thnk?" 

She laughed. "Now who's talking with his mouth full?" 

I swallowed. "Fair enough." 

"I think it's possible," she continued, nodding at the TV screen. "I mean, we're friends, aren't we?" 

There it was. The extent of her feelings for me. And at least I knew before I made an idiot out of myself, I tried to console myself. It helped a little, but not much. 

And she was still waiting for a response, wasn't she? "Of course we are," I hastened to assure her. "Good friends." 

"God, I love you, Mark," she sighed, throwing her arms around me and giving me a brief squeeze that hurt my ribs almost as much as my heart. "You're going to make some lucky girl very happy." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," I protested. "Girls don't usually find me attractive." 

"Well, those girls are stupid," she declared recklessly. "With a little work, you'd be really cute." 

"Mimi, I don't know--" 

"Please?" she begged, fluttering her eyelashes at me. Damn her. She knew just how to get me to do whatever I wanted. "Can I see what you look like without your glasses?" 

I gave in and took them off. She examined me carefully, then shook her head. "No, put them back on. They work with the cute, dorky look you have going." 

"Mimi, girls don't like cute and dorky," I insisted. "Trust me." 

"Mark, really." She shook her head solemnly. "They do. I know what I'm talking about. You're such a sweet guy, and girls can see that. They can tell that you're one of those rare men who cares more about making them happy than making themselves happy." 

"Then why do I have so much trouble finding a date?" I whined. "All the girls I've met would rather go out with a complete asshole just because he looks good in jeans and has nice hair." 

"You'll find someone someday," she stated firmly. "And you'll both make each other very happy." 

I mulled over our conversation for half the night, long after the movie was over and Mimi had fallen asleep on the couch. I'd covered her with a blanket, kissed her forehead, and turned out the light before retiring to my own bed to begin my struggle with insomnia. This was driving me crazy. She'd made it clear that she thought of me only as a friend. Did I want to risk what we already had? Of course I didn't. Then why couldn't I just accept it and move on? 

I'd almost fallen asleep when I heard a noise from the living room. I told myself firmly that it was nothing, and turned over to go to sleep. I heard it again. This time I got up, and softly made my way into the living room. 

The sound was much clearer now. It sounded like someone crying, and sure enough, when I looked over to the couch, I saw Mimi curled up in a ball, sobbing as if her heart would break. 

I approached her cautiously, and when she didn't recoil, sat down next to her on the sofa and lifted her into my arms. I held her tightly against me as she cried, feeling her tears drip onto my shoulder and soak into my shirt. It was so frustrating, seeing her like this and being unable to do anything. I couldn't change what had happened in her past. I couldn't fix everything that was wrong with her. All I could do was sit here and watch her, a helpless witness to her fear and grief. 

After awhile, her sobs slackened, and her body went limp against mine. "I'm sorry," she whispered into my chest. "I don't know what happened." 

"Oh, honey. Mimi, sweetheart." I didn't know why the endearments were there, they just were. 

"It's been over a year," she continued in a shaky voice. "I should be over this by now." 

"Mimi, what happened to you was a horrible, traumatic experience." Duh, Mark. I think she already knows that. "What I'm trying to say is that there isn't any set period of time that's going to pass, and then everything will be all right again." 

"You're right," she said listlessly. "Nothing will ever be right again." 

"Come on, now, I didn't say that," I protested, lifting her up slightly so she was staring into my eyes. "Look at how far you've come since we met. You just need to give yourself time." 

She sighed and settled back down against me. "God, you've been so good to me," she sighed. "I love you, Mark." 

I bent my head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I love you too." 


	3. 3

Author's Notes: 

Kelby--Your reviews always make me smile. I promise I'll do my best to review your stories more often, because I enjoy how you write for Mark and Roger. 

Kate--Where on earth is the next chapter of Still Hurting? I'm seriously in love with that story, and it's very cruel to deprive everyone like this. ;) 

Liss--Your liking this means a lot. I always enjoy your stories, and it's always a thrill when a talented writer likes what you've done. 

Maureen--Thanks for your comments. It's a great feeling to know that people are enjoying this. 

Becca--You need to write more Scrabble. And Bananas. *nods* And your M/R, hell, just work on everything. Go. Write. :P 

Lola--Why are you reading this? You've already read this! You need to go write, then you can read. Go, you evil ficbitch. ;) 

Thanks, everyone, for reviewing. Here's the next chapter. Hope it doesn't disappoint. 

She slept next to me in my bed that night. There was nothing sexual about it--just two good friends holding each other until we fell asleep. Twice more, she woke up crying. I would hold her close, and stroke her hair, and whisper words of comfort until she fell back into a troubled slumber. 

The other side of the bed was empty the next morning. At first I panicked, then I told myself that she'd probably gone back to the couch, and tried not to be hurt by that. When I got to the living room, I saw the blanket in a heap on the sofa, where it had been last night. There was no sign of Mimi. 

I was just beginning to seriously worry when I caught the scent of burnt bread. Following it into the kitchen led me to discover Mimi standing by the counter, frantically fanning smoke away from the toaster. 

"You're up early," I remarked, grabbing a stack of papers and giving her a hand. 

Mimi looked at me apologetically. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast for once. I'm afraid I'm not much of a chef." 

"I appreciate the thought," I assured her, putting my arm around her and giving her a little squeeze around the shoulders. To my joy, she didn't pull away. "All I really need is orange juice." 

"Orange juice I can do," she replied, giving me one of those stunning smiles of hers. I had to lean against the counter to keep my knees from buckling. "At least, I'm assuming I can. Knowing me, it'll probably burst into flames or something." 

"If it does, you just put the glass in the sink and I'll run water over it," I laughed. "Although it would be fun to see the expression on Benny's face when we told him the apartment burned down due to an orange juice fire." 

She burst out laughing. "Stop it! You're making me spill!" 

"Now there's a thought," I commented. I dipped my fingers into the glass, and flicked a few drops of juice at her. "I'll bet you'd look gorgeous covered in orange juice." 

"Hey!" she yelled, flinging the carton at me. A stream of juice flew out into the air. Some landed on the floor, and splashed onto my bare feet. Some more splattered onto the counter. And a good deal hit me straight in the face, soaking the front of my head and plastering my hair to my forehead. 

"Oh, God, Mark," Mimi managed to choke out before the giggles overtook her. "I'm sorry" 

"You're not sorry!" I whined. "If you were sorry, you wouldn't laugh!" 

"But you look so funny!" she exclaimed, then doubled over from a renewed fit of giggles. 

I folded my arms and pouted while she laughed for what seemed like forever. I loved the sound of her laugh, and she looked rather ridiculous herself, holding onto the counter for support. It was all I could do to keep a stern expression when she finally finished. 

"Oh, Mark," she sighed. "I'm sorry I laughed, but you do look so silly!" 

I stuck my lower lip out as far as I could. "First you attack me, then you laugh at me! You're mean!" 

"Oh, here, you big baby," she sighed, grabbing a washcloth from the sink. "Let me help you clean up." 

She dabbed at my face with the washcloth, laughing again when she said the juice had turned my hair orange. "Honestly, Mark, you should really see yourself." 

"Now I'll smell like orange juice all day!" I complained. 

"There are worse things you could smell like," she pointed out, tossing the washcloth back toward the sink. "Like Benny's cologne, for instance." 

"You've noticed too?" I laughed. "Maybe we should talk to him about it." 

She was staring at me intently, and didn't reply. I touched her shoulder. "Mimi?" 

"Oh. Sorry." She shook her head. "I just noticed I missed a drop, that's all." And before I knew it, she had brought her lips to my face and brushed them against the corner of my mouth. 

"Wow," I croaked. "That's one way to get rid of it." 

We stared at each other. Then she moved toward me, and I moved toward her, and the next thing I knew our arms were around each other and our lips pressed together. 

When we broke apart, she gave me a small, sweet smile and started for the door. "I have to work early today," she explained, glancing over her shoulder at me. 

What had just happened? I scrambled to collect my thoughts. "Uh, Mimi" 

She turned back to look at me, her eyes solemn and unblinking. 

"About what happenedI hope that didn't ruin anythingI mean, are you okay, I mean" Why was I such a babbling idiot? If nothing was wrong, it would be soon, and if something was wrong, I certainly wasn't making any better. 

Mimi held up a hand. "Mark, it's fine. Really." She smiled, and I felt a little better. "I just have to go to work now." 

"All right," I agreed. "See you tonight?" 

"Without a doubt." She blew me a kiss, and slipped out the door. 

After about fifteen minutes went by, the apartment became too small for me. I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing, but if I stayed in there a moment longer, I'd never make it. I hopped on the subway and took it uptown, where I spent the day filming sleepy streets on the West Side, and ducks in Central Park. I bought a hot dog, and fed most of the bun to the sparrows who would eat pieces right out of my hand. I debated taking a carriage ride around the park, but decided it would look too pathetic if I did it by myself. 

When I got back to the apartment, the sun was down, and the streets were faintly lit by the last glows of twilight. Mimi still wasn't back yet. 

I waited up for her, watching sitcoms, late night talk shows, and finally infomercials on TV. The hours slowly ticked by, with no sign of her. Somewhere between the amazing abtronic belt, and the Torso Track, I dozed off. 

When I woke up, the first rays of sunlight were streaming through the windows. I glanced at my watch. Five fifteen. I got up and went to the bathroom, returning just in time to see Benny's door creak open, and a small figure emerge into the living room. Just then I sneezed. Mimi jumped guiltily, and her eyes met mine. 

"Mark," she whispered frantically. "I can explain" 

"Mimi, I'm getting lonely," Benny's voice rang out from his room. His words hit me in the stomach, and I felt like I was going to throw up. 

"Mark, please," Mimi begged. "Can we talk about this?" 

I was surprised at how even my voice was. "Mimi, there's nothing to talk about. We're friends. You're with Benny. I think it's great." My camera was lying on the sofa, where I had set it down last night. I snatched it up and tucked it under my arm. "I'm going out for awhile. I'll be back later." 

"Mark" I turned to look at her. "I should tell you" I stared at her. She faltered mid-sentence. "Never mind." 

I managed a smile, feeling as if my face were about to crack any minute. "I'll see you later." 

I stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind me, a little harder than necessary. 


	4. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:  
  
I realize I haven't updated this story in ages. It's actually complete, but I just don't have the time or energy to break up the rest of it (there's quite a lot) into chapters and post them when everyone's likely forgotten about this story anyhow.  
  
However, if you do want to read the rest of this, you can either leave a review with your email address, or email me directly at dulcineah1@yahoo.com, and I'll send the entire thing your way.  
  
Thanks for reading.  
  
Dulcey 


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